


So Heavy are the Shadows

by AlwaysKeepAiming



Series: Together We Will Stand [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dealing With Trauma, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Jon Snow is King in the North, Late night talks, Political Sansa Stark, Post Season 6, Pre Season 7, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, but he tries, jonsa, pre/forming relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysKeepAiming/pseuds/AlwaysKeepAiming
Summary: Outside, celebrations of their marriage would continue into the wee hours of the morning, but inside two people grow closer.ORA look into Jon and Sansa’s first night and morning as man and wife.3rd in a series, to understand all plot points, read parts 1 & 2 first!
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Together We Will Stand [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943203
Comments: 12
Kudos: 128





	So Heavy are the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!   
> Thank you for the continued support of this series! Please enjoy!

Three maids ducked around the room as Sansa stood in the middle, the calm eye of the storm. One turns down the bed, the other lights candles to illuminate the room, while the third, Hanna, helps her undress. Her sleeves have already been loosened and Hanna is nearly done with the stays down her back. She wishes that Hanna would move slower, as every loosened tie brings her one step closer to the thing which she dreaded the most. 

Elsewhere in Winterfell, hundreds of her countrymen would celebrate into the wee hours of the morning. The party extended far outside the Great Hall into the camps of soldiers in the moors surrounding them. Drinking, dancing, and feasting to the good fortune of her wedding and subsequent coronation. All events that had taken place hours ago, but now the real journey would begin. However, the only person she cared about was in the next room over, getting ready himself. 

Her elegant wedding gown fell to the floor as Hanna quickly threw her nightgown over Sansa. The cream gown had thick fabric and long sleeves to block out the cold. It was different than the one she wore last night as the first thing she did this morning was burn it. Every motion felt methodical, checking task items off the list. No one spoke, and Sansa barely focused on the maid who stepped over to tend to her gown or the third who turned to pluck pins out of her hair. She felt like one of the dolls she used to love playing with. 

Instead, she stared at her vanity that had been moved in earlier that day. It remained bare as most things were still packed away save for one item. Atop a blue cushion sat the crown that Jon had placed on her head hours ago. The silver diadem had two growling dire wolves meeting in the middle and shone brightly in the room. It was meant to complement Jon’s new crown, one of thick gold and delicate bronze detail. The crowns had been a wedding present as were the two thrones still being carved. 

How strange that a simple piece of metal somehow meant so much and carry such a heavyweight. 

Cold air flushed in as the door creaked opened. Sansa had her back to the door so hopefully, only Hanna noticed how her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t ready for this, but to be fair, would she ever be? 

“Leave us.” She knew it had been Jon who entered, but it still caused her to shudder when she heard his voice. Everyone froze but none of the maids went to leave. Hanna’s fingers stayed on the ties of her nightgown as her handmaid looked up at her. She seemed to be waiting for Sansa to give a cue. As much as she wished for Hanna to stay with her, Sansa knew that was impossible. 

Only when she nodded once did all three maids stopped what they were doing, curtsying once before leaving, muttering an acknowledgment to Jon. “Your Grace.” 

Jon waited until the door closed fully behind the maids before addressing Sansa. He coughed once to clear his voice, “You have a tendency to inspire loyalty.”

“Useful trait for a Queen.” She shrugged, turning to find Jon still standing awkwardly by the door. He still wore his breeches and a loose shirt. His hair had fallen loose, and dark curls escaped in every direction. It was a far cry from his earlier outfit of a sharp dark gray doublet, black pants, and cloak with a running dire wolf on it.

“Aye.” He murmured, running a hand through his curls. He looked terribly out of place and awkward in the room. Though she figured she did as well. The room, conjoined with the Lord’s Chambers, well now the King’s Chambers, could serve as a sitting room, as it did under her Lady Mother or a bedroom as it did with Walda Frey. Sansa would continue to use it as a bedroom, allowing some privacy from Jon as well as the elimination of awkwardness needing to share a bed. It would keep them close, but not too close. 

However, in the preparation of the wedding, she had no time to move or settle. No tapestries hung on the wall, her sewing projects remained packed, and half her wardrobe remained in her previous chambers. All Hanna really had time to do was clean, burn some incense, and move some of her larger furniture in. The rest would need to be done later. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Sansa uncertain what to do. Jon seemed ready to leave at a second’s notice and Sansa felt confident she would not stop him. It was so quiet in the room that she could hear the drunken jeers of some men out in the courtyard below them. 

Unsurprisingly, they both spoke at the same time, 

“Jon I-.”   
“Sansa listen-.”   
Luckily, the moment provided a lighter feeling to the room, as they both seemed just as desperate to alleviate the awkwardness. They shared a small smile and a breathy laugh. 

“You first, please.” Sansa waved him more into the room as she went to sit on the bed. She had no additional chairs set up, and the bed remained the only place to sit. For a moment, she pretended like they weren’t about to share a bed and he had just come for an evening conversation. 

Jon shuffled into the room, staying very clear of the bed and by proxy, Sansa herself. His words reflected his unsure steps as he stuttered out, “It’s, I-, We don’t have to do this.” 

Leaning against her empty vanity, he crossed his arms and waited for a response. To be fair, she expected nothing less from him, then a last attempt to protect her. Sansa took a deep breath and said the words required of her, “We do, and it’s okay.” 

“It’s not. You’re terrified. I know you think you are hiding it, but I saw you flinch when I came in, and you haven’t able to look me in the eye. Last night is still fresh for you, Ramsay-.” He had been quick to jump in and give his thoughts but then trailed off as her eyes darted away. Whatever point he wanted to make, he succeeded. She was scared. Terrified in fact. 

Jon shook his head gently, eyes cast downwards as if he were almost ashamed to look at her. “You’ve been forced by too many, I will not add my name to that list.”

Sansa opened her mouth but found no words. She wanted to reassure him that she was fine, and willing, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to do so. Instead, in the seclusion her room allowed, her true feelings came to light and she could no longer bury them beneath false confidence. The more she tried to hide them, the worst she felt. It was a daily battle that she fought alone, and just for a moment, she didn’t want to be strong. 

“I still hold my breath walking around corners because I am afraid, as illogical as it is. I see him in shadows and when the door opens a little too loudly.” Every word was whispered, but Jon’s entire focus was on her. It felt good to admit it and to maybe share the burden of her silent fears. 

The vanity creaked loudly as Jon adjusted his weight, “Ramsay is dead.” And she knew that. She was the one who saw the light fade from his eyes as the hounds tore at him, but her nightmares begged otherwise.

Letting out a deep sigh, Sansa looked up at the ceiling, regretting her decision to tell him. He had enough to worry about, and she should not have added to it. This wedding had been enough of a burden on him, and to add her troubles would be too much. She immediately tried to justify her thoughts, “I know, and I know it’s foolish, but it doesn’t change the fact that moons later, I am still afraid in my home.”

“It’s not foolish,” Jon quickly corrected. Her eyes snapped to him and she found kindness and a sort of understanding on his face. He didn’t seem mad, or annoyed, but instead sympathetic. His next words shocked her, “I’m afraid too.” 

Sansa was no fool and knew Jon had seen horrors and battle beyond her imagination. What he told her of the Night King scared her and she could not imagine encountering him in person. However, whatever fears Jon held, he held them even closer than Sansa did. He always seemed stoic, if not brooding and tired, but also strong, facing most situations with a level head. Even when the odds were stacked against them before the Battle of the Bastards, he never seemed fearful. Yet, hearing Jon admit that he had fears too, comforted her and she silently waited for him to continue. 

“Betrayal has a way of- I don’t know.” He trailed off, pushing away from the vanity to look out the window instead. She didn’t push for more details and only waited for his mind to process his thoughts. With a sigh, he continued, “I’m no good with words. But betrayal is hard to forget and it scares me.”

She studied his back, strong and broad, and wondered what betrayal he spoke of. She knew what happened at the Wall when his men betrayed him. Although he spared her the more gruesome details, that type of trauma would stay with a person for years to come. And she had little idea of the years he spent up there, only bits and pieces that could possibly refer to the betrayal he spoke of. 

But despite knowing his struggle at the Wall, something in Sansa’s gut declared that this fear came from a fresher wound than from the scars from the Night’s Watch. So much had happened since the day she rode into Castle Black, especially for Jon. A battle, a new title, a parentage reveal that surprised everyone, and now a new wife, her. New people to trust, and people thought he could trust, turns out he could not. 

No, this betrayal was no scar, but a fresh gaping wound. 

Tilting her head to the side, she whispered cautiously “You aren’t just speaking of what happened at the Night’s Watch are you?” 

She could tell just by the way his shoulders stiffened that yes, yes, this wound was fresh. A temptation arose to walk over to him, touch his shoulder, and try, desperately to try to alleviate his pain. But she resisted that urge. It felt too personal, too intimate. Instead, she waited until he turned around, tapping his fist against her window frame. 

“Do you think we will ever understand why Bran did what he did?” His voice sounded pained as if he even vocalizing his thoughts hurt. “And if he knew about my mother, what other secrets does he hide? Will the damage be too much next time?” Jon moved back to leaning against her vanity and she saw how his face had broken into one of sadness with downturn brows and lips.

Sansa opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. She had nothing to offer him, no comfort to give. She too had wondered the same thoughts about Bran. Never before would she have even considered her little brother a threat, and now she had to. 

“I wish I had the answers to ease your mind.” And she truly did, just as much for him as it did for her.

“And I wish I could calm your fears.” He offered her a small smile, but it was his words that provided her the most comfort and the genuine emotion behind it. Jon cared for her, more than any other man before since her Father. She believed what he said and had no doubt that if he could, he’d take his sword and slay everything that caused her fear. 

His simple statement almost brought tears to her eyes so she quickly shut them, silently rejoicing in giving up even the smallest weight she’d been carrying for so long. Every moment like this gave Sansa faith that they had made the right choice for not only their country, their family, but also themselves. It made her next comment so much easier to say. 

“Jon?” She whispered, opening her eyes after a moment. 

“Hm?” He glanced back over to her. 

“We still need to. I-.” Sansa started before being cut off by a tsk Jon let out as he snapped his gaze away. Deep down, they both knew what needed to happen that night, but Jon had yet to accept it. As with most things in their short betrothal and marriage, Jon required a light push in the right direction. Honorable men sometimes needed that. 

So, she continued, holding on to her newfound faith in their union and as if he wasn’t bothered at all. “I know you want to be honorable, and I appreciate your concern, but it doesn’t change that not consummating is grounds for annulment.” 

She needed this marriage to work. The North needed this marriage to work. To be honest, Sansa didn’t think she could survive another marriage and she refused to be pushed aside if another option came along. Here she was, only eight and ten, and already hurt far beyond her young years. She craved stability and her country needed an heir. 

Letting out a long sigh, Jon came at sat on the bed next to her. Thankfully, he muttered, “I know.” He made no other movements, and Sansa didn’t know what to do next. 

She had never instigated marital intimacies before and couldn’t begin to think of where to start. In her head, she kept repeating that this was the right move. Her heart on the other hand begged and pleaded to not let him touch her. Even though she trusted Jon, and she had told her self-daily that she was okay with laying with him, sitting on the bed next to him made it all too real. Her stomach turned and she felt almost lightheaded from the nerves. 

“I swear I’ll do right by you. I’ll be a good husband.” Jon reached out to lay his hand over hers. She glanced over to find him wide eye and looking at her. He seemed nervous but she doubted he was half as nervous as she. 

But she believed Jon wouldn’t hurt her and knew that would get her through this. Swallowing the lump in her dry throat, she squeezed his hand, “I know. You’re a good man Jon Stark.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, “I think you are the first person to say that.” 

“That you’re a good man?” She asked, unwilling to believe that. Jon was good, so good, that surely someone must have told him before. If not at the Night’s Watch, then her father or their Uncle Benjen that Jon loved so dearly. 

“That and my new name.” He corrected and Sansa silently made a vow to make sure that he would hear it as much as he needed to. 

“You deserve it.” Sansa’s smile came naturally as he rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. The callous pad of his thumb was a bold contrast to her soft hands, but it felt right. Her heart rate had yet to calm down, but she felt better, safer, holding his hand. 

If only that would be enough for tonight. 

Jon stood and began to undo the ties of his breeches, “If I hurt you, tell me, and I’ll stop.” Taking a deep breath Sansa nodded and braced herself for what was to come. He helped her to the edge of the bed as she lifted her gown and spread her legs. Closing her eyes, Sansa held onto his shirt, bunching it up tighter and tighter with every thrust. Curls hit her cheek as small grunts filled the room. 

Finally, it was done. Sansa let out a breath she didn’t know she held but refused to open her eyes. If she did, tears would almost certainly follow within seconds. She could feel how quickly Jon moved away by the welcomed rush of cool air. “Are you okay?” 

Her voice would surely betray her as she could already feel her throat catching on a sob, she desperately wanted to keep private. Ice had filled her veins. Trembles erupted in her body that she tried to control by clutching shaking hands to her chest. She managed a slight nod, hoping that would be enough for Jon. “Do you want me to stay?” He asked, after letting out an anguished sigh. 

This time she shook her head no. She so badly wanted to be alone and have a chance just to cry by herself. It took a moment and she could almost imagine Jon hesitating, wanting to do something to help, but finally, she heard the door open and close. She was finally, blissfully, alone, and fell back onto the bed, still clutching her chest before she let out the tears that demanded to come. 

Alone with her thoughts, Sansa curled into a ball under the furs, trying to get warm. Jon was gentle in a way Ramsay wasn’t, and kind in a way Joffrey wasn’t. He was everything her past husbands or suitors weren’t. It was for that reason she knew this would work. She prayed that her fears would be replaced by faith in their union, even if that took years. 

The next morning, despite the emotions of the previous day and night, Sansa awoke feeling better than she had in days. She quickly realized it had been the first night without a nightmare in weeks and she actually felt refreshed. For a moment, Sansa forgot entirely about what had happened and where she was. The room felt different and she could hear slight conversations happening nearby. Turning over, she looked to her vanity and the crown that still laid there. 

Oh yeah.   
Queen. Married. Jon. 

A loud door slamming shut forced her from her thoughts as she heard her new husband loudly exclaim, “Damn it!” She sprung out of bed, trying to ignore the cold air as her feet hit the ground. In a swift motion, she slipped on her slippers and threw her robe on to determine what could be so upsetting so early in the morning. 

She found him alone in their joint solar, partially dressed, and rubbing his forehead with closed eyes, “Jon? What’s wrong?” A part of her feared the worse, Cersei or the Night King. Perhaps even the Dragon Queen rumored across the sea. They’d been married less than a day, and already something happened. 

Jon glanced over to her, a brooding scowl on his face. She braced herself for the news, “Lester was found dead in his cell this morning.” Lester. The name rang no bell, and she tilted her head to reflect her confusion. Gratefully, Jon understood and elaborated, “The man who assaulted you.” 

“How?” She asked. They were to question him today, to determine who paid him to attack her. How convenient he turned up dead. This news was certainly troubling. 

Jon covered his head in his hands clearly upset with this news, “Stabbed, looks to be a suicide.” 

“Suicide?” She gasped, shocked that he would rather take his own life than answer one question. 

“But no one knows how he got the damn knife.” Jon hit his fist against the wall to release some of his anger. Weapons were not allowed down in the cells. Any visitors to prisoners must forfeit their weapons to the guards posted at the only entrance. Getting a knife down there was no easy task. 

Crossing her arms, Sansa paced the room, chewing on her lip. The news of her attacker’s death was troubling as it now left them with many unanswered questions and little way to get answers. Their easiest chance to get more information was now gone and Sansa needed to rethink her strategy in bringing her true assailant down. She had been puzzling out who could have ordered him since her attack. No matter how many different ways she looked at it, one name always ended up as the man controlling the board. 

“Are you okay?” Jon’s voice had softened considerably, and Sansa realized how pensive she must have looked. A part of her said not to tell him as his reaction was a variable she could not control. However, she wanted to. She wanted to trust him with this and face it together. 

After weighing her options for a moment, she finally spoke, “I have to tell you something. But you cannot go wild and react.” She fixed him a hard stare that hopefully declared the severity of the situation. 

Jon not only looked taken aback but physically took a step back as if he wasn’t expecting logic from her at this moment. Yes, she felt emotions about this news, but now was not the time for them. It would do neither of them any good to cry about it now. They needed to plan. 

“You know who ordered him.” Jon gasped, something finally clicking for him. 

“I have my suspicions.” She admitted, shifting her weight around. Jon waited for her to say something she prayed he didn’t go in a mad rage, “Baelish, he offered me a goblet of wine, but I didn’t drink from it and then-.” 

“What?” Unsurprisingly, Jon’s face morphed into one of shock as his mouth fell open. 

Sansa simply continued, wanting to get as many details out as possible. “He threatened you. Dethrone you, crown me, no wedding needed. He said if anything happened, I could always go to him.” They knew Sansa was supposed to be drugged, and the wine Baelish offered her was the perfect opportunity. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Jon took two long strides toward the door, forcing Sansa to chase after him

“You cannot!” She cried, grabbing his arm so as to force him to hear her words that followed in a hot storm, “Even accusing him of being behind the plot could lose us the Vale and valuable men to your cause. He clearly is trying to clean up the mess and our wedding did not help. I don’t know how but surely he gave the knife.” 

Jon stared at her, studying her face as slowly, he puzzled out what she had said, “This is why you pushed for us to be wed. Not to delay.” 

“Baelish is always planning, always scheming. I had to do the same. Let me work with Yohn Royce. Once we secure the Vale, we will have Baelish’s head.” The one thing Sansa knew for certain was Baelish was mad. His plan had failed, and now the wedding had happened. It changed everything and hopefully, he would react with his anger, and make a mistake Sansa could exploit. 

“It’s not a battle of swords with him, but a battle of wits.” Sansa finished, hand still on his arm, glaring at Jon slightly. She trusted him last night, and now he needed to trust her. Even though she didn’t exactly know how Sansa was certain she could win them the Vale and take out Baelish. Jon running around with his sword and accusations would only ruin it. 

They stared at each other, a silent fight of wills. She’d told him countless times that she needed him to be smarter than Ned and Robb before him, even if it involved listening and trusting her. He was the better swordsman and could lead a battle, but controlling a court was her strength. However, it was proving to be more and more of a challenge to keep Jon on track. Gods help her. 

The door creaked open and a kitchen boy, balancing a tray, walked in behind Hanna whose arms were full of the grey dress she and Sansa finished the day before, “Pardon me. I have Lady Sansa’s breakfast.” 

“Queen Sansa.” Hanna sharply corrected the boy who Sansa recognized as Roddie. Hanna walked through the room as if she had done it a million times. Her no-nonsense maid and the nervous, but sweet, kitchen boy brought a different feeling to the room. 

She fixed Jon one last look before smiling at the young boy. “It’s alright Roddie, take it there, I will eat while getting dressed.” She gestured to her back chambers. A part of her thought she should say something else to Jon, but she didn’t want to keep fighting. Instead, she followed Roddie and Hanna, praying that her words and reason would delay Jon from acting blindly. 

Baelish would pay for every lingering gaze, every kiss, and every inappropriate comment he whispered in her ear. But first, they needed patience and to lie in wait. Baelish would slip up soon enough and when he did, Sansa would not stop the wolves from striking. 

Roddie placed her breakfast tray next to her crown and Sansa couldn’t help the grin on her face. Her mind had already been turning to next steps and moves since she heard Lester had died. Seeing her crown gave her a new idea. 

And now the game would begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, thank you for reading. I just wanted to address the course of my story took. One, this is a slow burn Jonsa fic. I don’t believe either character would have harbored feelings for each other and would be in love as soon as they found out they weren’t siblings. However, both are driven by duty and family (at least in my opinion and how I am directing they story) They aren’t getting married because they want to, but because they feel they have to. They aren’t having sex because they want to (at least not yet) but because if not, it would be too easy for the lords to demand an annulment should a better match come along. That is the exact thing Sansa wants to avoid. Also, Sansa is dealing with a lot of trauma. Her learning to live with it, and letting herself be loved is a major part of this series. It is not going to be easy for them, but they will get there. More is to come and trust me, love will come as well!   
> If you need some Jonsa fluff to tie you over, go read my piece Wounds Heal, Scars Fade


End file.
